


stopping power

by crownsandbirds



Series: sadist's lullaby [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fox!Riko AU, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Threats of Violence, and things are shitty but at least they're manageable, basically kevin takes riko with him to psu, but kevin can work with that, when riko's not high off his ass with meds he's a feral cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds
Summary: Riko caresses the back of Kevin’s left hand with his thumb. In these moments, just them in their small kitchen, soft sunlight streaming through the windows, Kevin hates him, and then he doesn't.





	stopping power

**Author's Note:**

> "Give me bullet power. 
> 
> Give me power over angels. 
> 
> Even when you’re standing up
> 
> you look like you’re lying down, but will you let me kiss your neck, baby?"
> 
> \- Richard Siken, Wishbone

Kevin is painfully familiar with hatred. He was born and raised in the midst of the thick, heavy, inescapable aura of hatred. He got to watch closely the process of Jean Moreau's emotional grey eyes turning into two pools of cold, freezing silver out of the sheer strength of his inhuman hatred towards Riko. He knows what it does to people, what it can make people do. He gets a glimpse of it himself when he glances at the white, rigged scars on the back of his left hand.

But it's almost amusing, in a sick way, even for him, to see how deeply and strongly Riko hates the Palmetto State Foxes and everything they stand for. He's as familiar with hatred as he is with the specific mechanisms of Riko's anger, and he knows how bone-deep it goes, and how it seeps through in his every movement and dictates the way he interacts with everyone around him. In this particular situation, it's such a powerful feeling that it surprises even Andrew now and then. The Foxes watch it work its sly cruel way through the world with a terrified detachment; the only times most of them risk sending a word directed to Riko are when he's high off his feet with mood stabilizers and pliant and soft under Kevin's hands. Then he gets sober for a moment again and gets mad at his own - terribly improbable, but still existing - softness, and lashes out at everything that has a working pulse. 

It's so familiar and yet so  _ new _ that when Kevin's not reacting out of pure visceral instinct, he has no idea how to deal with him. Riko oscillates dangerously between world-shattering rage, soft drug-induced apathy, and a strange brand of homicidal chill - when he's in the third state, he usually sits down with someone he deems not completely boring and talks calmly about something and surprises everyone with just how damn smart he is while regarding everything with his cold, black eyes, as if he's just waiting for the perfect victim to show up so he can drink their blood. 

When it comes to Kevin and their once again shared existence in their assigned dorm room, Riko dances between blind rotten devotion and petty cruelness. It's exhausting, and the quickness with which he goes from one state to the other can be almost nauseating at times. Some days, Kevin can just bask in the idea that he can walk up to him and hug him from behind and press kisses on his nape without having to look over his shoulder. Other days, Riko snarls at him and spits out insults in smooth Japanese and pulls out a knife on everyone that dares lay a finger on him.

Everyone is tired. There's only so much that going to Columbia to get wasted and powering through uncomfortable team bonding moments can do, and it turns out it's not much at all. Wymack is always more than willing to take care of whatever stray cats show up at his door, but Riko is - too much. After his first violent breakdown (teacups thrown at walls, screams in multiple languages, the kind of night Kevin got used to in the Nest and that would be especially torturous for Jean if he was around) he was immediately signed up for weekly sessions with Betsy Dobson, because, according to Wymack, “this is not your black cult of your old team, and you don’t get to torture people at whatever minor inconvenience that happens, so go see Betsy and build some fucking coping mechanisms or whatever the fuck they’re called that don’t involve trying to kill one of us”. Kevin is dragged along for almost every one of those sessions, because Riko doesn’t take a single step alone and because someone has to be there when he inevitably wants to bash someone’s head in after Betsy asks one question too much.

Riko can't sleep and he refuses to eat, so at least that part is exactly as it was in the Nest. He practices with a ferocity akin to a dying man clinging to his last breath. 

"Put a leash on him if you have to, Day." Coach said once, minutes after Riko had slammed his racquet against Seth's stomach for daring to breathe his way. "I don't want to wake up and be faced with him holding one of my kitchen knives ready to cut my throat."

The upperclassmen are too wary to ever come close to him. Him and Dan talk sometimes, if only about Exy and captaincy, but their views on everything under the sun are so diametrically different that it always inevitably spirals into screaming arguments. 

Renee is the exception because Renee is the exception to everything. She's not afraid of Riko, and it shows. If it were back in the Nest, she would be laying on her back half-dead on a bed after Riko was done with her - not because she can't take him in a fight, which she most definitely can, but because he's a coward and plays dirty and snaps handcuffs to bedposts. Since this is the Foxes, he just avoids her like the plague and has absolutely no idea how to deal with her when she smiles at him. 

"I think", she tells Kevin, "that he could really benefit from talking to me. Most of our friends here are here because of what they did to themselves, but I'm familiar with the feeling of doing a lot of harm to other people out of pure selfishness. I know he won't take up my offer anytime soon, but please let him know anyway."

It's probably the most honest and useful offer anyone has given Riko, second only to Wymack allowing him inside his house and inside his team. 

The monsters, on the other hand, can't offer him anything other than a dorm room and weekly trips to Columbia to get wasted. Andrew did his usual lot of taking him and trying to drug him secretly, and that evolved into such a goddamn disaster that all the other boys had to hold them away from each other to stop them from burying a knife on each other's throats, and Nicky nearly lost his eye in the process. 

Andrew looked almost entertained by the whole thing. 

Kevin is very much aware of the monsters' opinion of Riko: Aaron hates him, because Aaron hates everything and everyone other than his little cheerleader girlfriend; Nicky is completely terrified of him; Andrew finds it amusing enough to not be boring, and he apparently enjoys watching his teammates being scared of someone else's violence; and Neil oscillates between antagonizing him at all possible moments and playing violent scrimmages and drills with him on the court.

(One night, after Neil had happily dragged Riko and run his dangerous, dangerous tongue far more than he should, Riko told Kevin in precise, clinical detail what he would do to Neil's vocal cords and to both his heel cords if they were in the Nest, and Kevin went sick to his stomach with fear and mind-numbing relief that all of that would remain only on his former captain's sadistic mind.)

As improbable as that sounded, they settled on a routine. Practice, classes - Riko's been wanting to get into pre-med  _ just because  _ and while no one doubts his extensive knowledge of human anatomy and his uncanny intelligence, no one feels comfortable with the way his eyes shine when he sees a scalpel, so they're still working on that - tentative meals, some successful and some far from it, Betsy's office on Thursday mornings, Columbia on Friday nights. 

It's not easy. Kevin certainly doesn't lie to himself that it's enjoyable. But it's manageable, most of the time, and if he can steal a kiss and a hug and other things now and then, well, it's all the better. It's more than he ever dreamed he would get. 

 

-

 

"Did you know," he starts, his eyelids heavy with insomnia and exhaustion, "that Ichirou is deaf in one ear?" 

Kevin has no idea where he got that information. “Is he? How do you know that?”

“I might be psychotic, but I’m not blind, Kevin. He wears a hearing aid, it shows on the pictures.” he pulls Kevin closer, presses a lazy, slow kiss on his neck - even Riko’s sleepy, barely conscious attempts at tenderness are depraved enough to send shivers down Kevin’s spine. “And Nathan told me, too. It’s Kengo’s - his father’s - fault.”

This is strange for them. Sleeping in, getting to be lazy together, talking about whatever they want. Riko wasn't even aware of what the expression  _ sleeping in _ truly meant until he felt it himself, one stormy Saturday morning a couple of weeks ago.

“So now Nathan Wesninski tells you things?” 

“He always did. More, now. Ichirou’s softness might be rubbing off on him.”

“Ichirou is literally the heir to a Japanese mafia empire, what do you mean his  _ softness _ ?”

“I mean what I said. He’s tender all over, but he hides it well. Did you know that he said that I would’ve made a better first son? He told Nathan I had something, and I quote, 'completely unhinged in me', and that Kengo would’ve been proud. That I would have been a better fit for the business.”

“Would you?”

Riko caresses the back of Kevin’s left hand with his thumb. Blind devotion. Their hands together, like this, make a fine pair; the two of them make a fine pair, Riko sitting on the counter, legs spread to fit Kevin between them. In these moments, just them in their small kitchen, soft sunlight streaming through the windows, Kevin hates him, and then he doesn't. “I don’t think I’m a good fit for anything these days.” he says quietly. It’s strange hearing such raw honesty from him. Kevin takes what he can get. “Not when I’m dosed up on anti-psychotics, not on this sorry excuse of a team.” 

Kevin disagrees. When it comes to Exy, Riko has been playing like a machine lately, perfect aim, perfect speed, everything. Neil jokes and says the sun is doing him some good. But when it comes to everything else, he’s been a mess, an unbalanced mess. “You’re a good fit here,” he says at least, raising his left hand to trace Riko’s lips with his finger. He can thank the mood stabilizers for allowing him to do this without the fear of being bitten viciously for no reason other than Riko’s sick amusement. “Like this, with me.” 

“You love me like this, don’t you." it doesn't come off as a question because it's not supposed to be one. If it had more bite, it would be an accusation. As it is, it hovers between the two. "One of the twins, the angry one, not the apathetic one, said that I’m almost likable when I’m not sober. I know  _ you _ love it. Must be nice, fucking me and knowing I like it and getting to  _ see _ me enjoy it instead of having to deal with me throwing you out of my bed as soon as I’m done and then pretending I’m doing you a favor.”

Sometimes Kevin wants to punch him right in his vulgar beautiful mouth. As it is, he just coaxes his lips open and lets him suck on his scarred fingers, kiss all over his broken left hand. He’s been finding out that’s a nice way of shutting him up.

 

-

 

_ how is he? _

Jean Moreau doesn’t waste words, doesn’t waste a single breath. Kevin can practically hear him asking that in his cool, emotionless voice.

His fingers hover over his phone as he tries to figure out the answer. Where both of them are concerned, there's only one 'he'. 

How  _ is  _ Riko? 

_ less angry. unstable. playing as well as always. mental breakdowns now and then.  _

The answer back doesn't come immediately. When it does, it's short and clipped and, like every single time he talks to Jean, makes it perfectly clear that Jean would've liked to be doing something else entirely. Riko's little French bird might've lost most of his fire in the Nest, but he still has a keen, impressive ability to make people uncomfortable.  _ i don't like to think about what he'd have turned into if he'd stayed here _ , say the words on his screen.

Kevin doesn’t know what he means. What does that mean? It’s not as if Riko kept his hands and his words and his handcuffs and knives to himself back at the Nest. It's not as if Jean himself didn't bear the worst of the king's violent impulses. 

Before debating with himself for a few seconds, he dials Jean's number and presses the call button. 

"What."

Jean has always hated talking on the phone. Kevin is relieved to see some things don't change, even when everything else is spinning out of his control. He wraps the blankets tighter around his body and switches to French, to try and make the other a bit more willing to not hang up on him. 

"What do you mean, you don't like to think about what he'd have turned to?"

Kevin is doing his best to keep quiet; it doesn't matter. Riko has sharp ears and eyes, a mind torn in shreds by equal parts paranoia and sadism, and an  _ instinct _ when it comes to French; he never picked up the language, and it remained as the last barrier between his torture and Jean's dignity, a little breach on his otherwise never-ending power. Normally, he would be up the walls with barely contained rage, but he's still riding the high off the sleep meds he took last night, so he merely turns on his side on the bed and raises his eyebrows in a silent question. He barely looks like a threat like this, hazy-eyed from sleep, dark silky hair falling over his eyes, a small rumpled figure between pillows. 

Kevin has learned never to take his chances when it comes to his former captain. So he lays a gentle hand on his arm to reassure him that it's only Jean. He'll be forced to go through the entire conversation afterwards anyway. 

Riko is suspicious (because when isn't he) but he's soothed enough, and he shifts around a little more to rest his head on Kevin's chest and closes his eyes as soon as he's comfortable again.

It's a permission if he's ever given one. 

Kevin would like to think that he wasn't asking for one, but, honestly-

Jean's tired sigh sounds as static. "Kevin. I know you're smarter than this. Just picture it for a moment. He breaks your hand, so you leave. He stays, and he's alone. For the first time in a decade, he doesn't have you by his side anymore, and he knows it's his fault. You stay on that shitshow of an Exy team, he's still with the Ravens, and, because he's the pettiest human being in the world, he takes every chance he gets to make your life and your teammates' lives miserable. You resent him, because obviously you do. You're stubborn, and afraid, so you don't come back to the Nest. I'm sure I don't have to keep painting the picture for you."

No, he really doesn't. Kevin shivers at the image of that hypothetical way everything could've went down if Jean hadn't called him to take Riko away before his uncle took his life with nothing but a relentless arm and an unbreakable oriental cane. "Oh." he mumbles. "I see. How are things there, by the way?" 

It was really a matter of hierarchy. Jean is still in the Perfect Court, so, without Riko and Kevin, he gets to rule their little castle. Kevin wonders how he feels with the crown on top of his head for a change. 

"You'd be surprised with how efficient a team can be without their captain physically and mentally torturing them on a daily basis. I'll send you stats, if you want to see for yourself."

Kevin thinks Jean's hatred for Riko is the purest, strongest form of a feeling he's ever seen in his life. It's almost beautiful to watch, the sheer power of it piercing through every one of Jean's polite and carefully planned words. 

"No, I believe you." 

In a very rare streak of humanity, Jean sighs again (Kevin can practically see him doing that little tic of his, where he pinches the bridge of his nose before speaking, and it's a soothing mental image), and asks one last question, "And how are you, Kevin?" 

Coming from someone who thinks being alive is already enough luck as it is, and that used to snarl,  _ Well, at least you're not six feet under so stop bitching _ , whenever he heard anyone complaining about anything, such a question means more than both of them had expected it would. 

"I'm-" he abruptly cuts himself off in an instinctive reaction to Riko unconsciously tightening his fierce, possessive hold around him. "I'm good. I'm better than I should be, I think."

"Good. Try not to die." 

The line goes silent after that. 

"Finally," Riko says, without opening his eyes. "Jean always talks too much."

Kevin threads his fingers through Riko's hair just because he can. "You want me to tell you what he said?" 

"Yes, but later. Sleep."

It's an easy enough order to follow, perhaps the easiest thing he's had to do since he had his hand broken, so he does.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a headache  
> also siken's poem fits in every single one of these pieces which is interesting  
> idk writing riko is very therapeutic


End file.
